Spirit communication is probably one of the most mysterious types of synchronicity. Skeptics, of course, would undoubtedly contend that it never happens because, as everyone knows, there’s no such thing as life after death. But for those of us who believe otherwise, who believe that our loved ones who have passed on do attempt to communicate with us, there are certain motifs that recur.
For Mike Perry, our synchro friend in the U.K. that motif is often a white feather. For Darren, our synchro friend down under, that motif has been a combination of animals and music – and, occasionally, movies and writers. For Math, who comments frequently here, the spirit communications take many different forms. We included some of their stories in Synchronicity and the Other Side. One story in that book is called Judy and Hank.
Judy is a friend of mine (Trish) from college. She’s a professional photographer in Manhattan and for 35 years, she and Hank were partners. He died in 2009 and we’ve posted about her experiences with Hank communications several times on the blog - here and here.
Judy is one of these people who sends me holiday e-cards throughout the year. On July 4, she sent one celebrating Independence Day. In thanking her, I asked if Hank had been around. Her response, I think, suggests that Hank is rarely too far from Judy, that the communicition is ongoing, and that he makes his presence known through whatever tools are available to him.
You are so kind to ask me if I’ve heard from Hank. This one is probably a stretch but maybe…
July 4 was his absolute favorite holiday. He would go to West Virginia and get some huge fireworks to explode on the 4th. It was always a good show…either at his best friends’ place in Connecticut or at his family estate in Middeltown. His dad collected antique guns, never shot any of them except for a very small (tabletop size) cannon on July 4. The thing would scare the pee out of anyone despite its size.
Anyway, yesterday I went to see my nephews’ new summer cottage on the water near Mystic, Connecticut. It’s a very quiet little cove, lots of families. There was not a bit of noise all day except for the sound of a few kids playing. Incredibly peaceful.
We were sitting on the deck and I was telling the story of Hank’s teeny canon and the blast it made. No sooner did I get the words out than we heard a huge blast from the cottage next door ! I thought they’d set off an M80. The ground hasn’t rocked like that since I heard that teeny cannon many years ago.
Pretty neat. Even if it wasn’t Hank, I suspect he had something to do with it!
In Western societies, we have been so inculcated to discount these kinds of experiences as valid and meaningful that we often ignore or dismiss what we intuitively know is significant. We are taught to dismiss these intuitive resonances, to deny the validity of our own experiences and beliefs. But when something occurs that enables or forces us to overcome the consensus reality, to risk ridicule from the finger shaking majority who calls us delusional or schizoid or “highly imaginative,” then our entire landscape changes. We are suddenly alive and aware within a network of intimate connections that may resemble the branches of that ceiba tree in the photo, connections that that don’t recognize time or space or death as divisions.
So, Judy, I don’t think the cannon incident is a stretch at all. Hank was saying hi.